


You're Intertwining Your Soul With Somebody Else

by lukeinallhisglory



Series: Muke [10]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Break Up, Confused Luke, Emotional Infidelity, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8631973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lukeinallhisglory/pseuds/lukeinallhisglory
Summary: The one where Luke's got a boyfriend, and it's not that he doesn't know what he wants, he just doesn't have what he wants, and he thinks maybe Michael is too big a risk.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok...So this one sort of rushed out of me (by that I mean I just wrote it and didn't really edit). I went heavy on the inner turmoil, so I hope this is as good as what it was based on. It was based on the arc in the show What I Like About You where Henry finds out that Holly likes Vince, in case you were wondering. I always root for Henry in that scenario, just so you know, despite the fact that I already know what happens, but in this I think it's probably flipped.  
> Anyway, I'm not affiliated with 5SOS, and they've never really addressed their sexualities explicitly, so this is all fiction.  
> Title from "Somebody Else" by the 1975. Check out that song. That's a good song. And Charlie Puth's cover for the BBC Live Lounge...better than the original. Man, I love this song.

It was easy to feel sorry for myself, even knowing that it was more of a default because I felt so guilty. I was laying out on the porch, watching the rain pour down just a foot away, close enough that when I stretched out my arm my fingers got wet. Originally I had been inside, participating in the party like a normal person, drinking and dancing like an idiot. Now I was caught up in a whirlwind of confusion, probably originating from watching Michael disappear upstairs with some random guy and then immediately being faced with my adoring boyfriend, who was decidedly not Michael. Watching Michael walk up the stairs, fingers laced with someone who it was possible even he didn’t know the name of, had made me feel sick to my stomach. That was nothing compared to Elijah’s hands on my waist, his lips pressing gently to mine, and the absolute lack of anything that I felt.

I knew that being with someone who I didn’t really feel anything for was wrong, but it was also a simplification. It’s not that I didn’t like Elijah; I just have a connection to Michael that ran down our spines and magnetized our hearts and minds forever. On some level that’s what I have with all three of them; Michael, Calum and Ashton, but nothing had ever been able to compete with my immediate physical and emotional responses to Michael. Sometimes I purposefully put Calum and Ashton both between us, just so I can breathe properly for an interview or even just a movie. Thoughts of Michael seeped into my most private moments constantly, but it wasn’t like I was thinking of Michael when I was in those moments with Elijah.

The problem was that it took active compartmentalization to pretend that when I was with Elijah, Michael literally didn’t exist. I refused to allow myself to even think his name when I was in bed with Elijah, which is complicated because he’s all I ever think about, all day, no matter what’s happening, for years. When I’m with Elijah and I get so much as a text from Michael, I feel like I might throw up from guilt

Which leads me to believe that I do in fact care about Elijah, at least on a basic _I want you to be happy_ level. There’s also history there, not the kind of _You’re the first person I came out to_ history that I have with Michael, but genuine happy memories that I could look back fondly on and still feel the remnants of emotions from.

What made it all harder was that Michael told me he loved me when we were 15. At the time I was so deep in the closet that when he said it I kicked him out of my house and didn’t speak to him for 2 days. Now I realize that was cruel and insensitive, and honestly thank god constantly that I somehow figured out how to forgive him for outing me to myself before I was ready. This means that when I look at him, and when I talk to him, I do it with the constant knowledge that if he doesn’t love me anymore, he certainly has the capacity to, which is agonizing.

The only issue is that I’m terrified. I guess I just don’t trust Michael as much as I need to. Michael can be brash, and even mean, and Elijah is safe. He’s safe partially because rejection wouldn’t hurt nearly as much coming from him, but also because I already know he won’t reject me. He’s already here. The biggest flaw is that I don’t love him back, even though we’ve been together long enough that I started saying it, because it was that or break up. The most I can say is that I care about him, and I wish him well, which makes it sound like we broke up 10 years ago, not like we’ve been together for 2.

Since we were 15 Michael has said he loves me 2 more times. This is discounting little, meaningless exclamations of those words when I give him food or do him some kind of favor, and when he’s drunk. Those are not the same thing as tear-filled, late night, desperation when we’re lying in bed, having not seen our families in 2 months, and need _something_ to hold on to, and decide to hold on to the truth.

The latest one was last night, which explains my having sought out somewhere to be alone and think for the first time since he’s said it, and finding myself barely buzzed with wet fingers and spinning thoughts, too lazy to go get myself properly drunk.

The first person to join me was Ashton, almost an hour after I’d slipped away, with the rain now coming down in such heavy sheets that it was completely visible even in the complete darkness of what might have been the early morning at this point. “Luke?” he groaned, dropping down on the white painted wood of the porch next to me, sitting up, leaning back on his hands. “What are you doing out here?” He asked.

I felt a little self-conscious about the fact that I was splayed out on the floor like it was a normal place to be lying down, but figured he would just think I was drunk. “Just thinking.”

“Yeah? About what?”

“Um,” I blushed. “Michael mostly.”

“He’s- Well, actually, I’m sure you don’t want to know.”

“Not at all, I saw him go off.”

“Elijah’s looking for you,” Ashton quickly rerouted me.

“Hm,” I mumbled, slight appreciation of that fact, but nothing more.

“He’s crazy about you, you know.”

“I love Michael,” I blurted out, mostly because I’d been completely silent and pretended to be asleep the night before, when Michael said it to me.

“You what?” And that wasn’t Ashton’s voice. I sat up and twisted around to where I’d heard it from and found Elijah staring at me from the doorway.

“No, it’s not like that-“ I began, standing up and approaching him.

“’Elijah’s crazy about you.’

‘I love Michael.’

Please explain to me how ‘It’s not like that.’” He was practically seething. Ashton slipped past us and back into the house.

“I’ve always loved Michael. That’s normal, you know that.”

“I kinda did, yeah, but it’s not normal, Luke.”

“What do you want me to say? Nothing’s really changed.”

“I guess not, but that doesn’t really make it ok.”

“Yeah, so it’s not ok. I agree with you. It’s not gonna go away though. You’re never gonna compete with him.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No! I’m just so sick of pretending not to love him.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long have you loved Michael!?” He yelled, hands jabbing out at the air.

I took a deep breath, more of sigh. “Since we were 15.”

“Do you love me at all? Did you?”

“Not like you want me to.”

“How then?”

“Not at all, I guess.”

“Wow. Ok.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s definitely not good enough, mate.”

“I know.”

“I’m just gonna go. Don’t call me, or actually contact me at all, ever,” He mumbled, not as much hot anger anymore as just sad resolve and frustration.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too, I guess. I knew on some level. I should’ve said something earlier.”

“It’s my fault, not yours.”

“That’s for fucking sure.” And the words hurt a little bit, just a pang like the feeling of the knife being taken out. He walked out into the rain, which wasn’t as torrential anymore, but certainly hadn’t stopped.

I fell back on to the ground again, arms around my knees, trying to convince myself that I was upset that we broke up for the right reasons even though I knew it wasn’t true. After a little while there were footsteps behind me and Michael sat down next to me. “Hey,” he murmured, voice soft and laced with something, maybe concern.

“Please tell me you didn’t leave someone naked upstairs,” I groaned.

“Upstairs, yes. Naked, no. Wasn’t about to go there tonight,” he admitted.

“Elijah just left,” I murmured, looking over at him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty late, we should all leave,” he nodded.

“No, I don’t mean he left the party.   I mean he broke up with me. He left the party too, I guess.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Michael’s voice was an octave higher, definitely concerned now. “Are you ok?”

I watched his face for a second, the way he didn’t look tired, just sad, and somehow younger. “I shouldn’t be, though, right? We were together 2 years. I should be really upset.”

“You’re not?”

“I feel a little guilty and a little embarrassed, and maybe a little sad, but not a lot. Not 2 years sad,” I admitted.

“What happened?”

“I told Ashton I love you, and he overheard.” Michael was completely silent for a few minutes. My heart was racing, having said those words out loud and to his face, even if it was a little bit of a cop out. I looked over at him and he was mirroring my pose, arms around his knees, grinning down at his shoes. “What’s that face for?” I scoffed.

He chuckled. “Shut up, Hemmings.”

“I’m sorry that it sounds like your fault. Honestly there were so many issues with our relationship, and none of it’s your fault, even if it does involve you.”

“I didn’t really respect your relationship as much as I should have.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I told you I loved you. Last night. Were you asleep, or did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” I mumbled, blushing softly.

“So this is my fault a little.”

I closed my eyes, feeling tears finally streaking my cheeks. A break up and the thing I was crying over was Michael blaming himself, not the break up itself. “I fucked up, Mikey. I should have worked all this out years ago, and I didn’t. That’s on me, not on you.”

He linked our arms and I angled myself to lean my head on his shoulder despite our height difference, content only when his head tipped against the top of mine. “So what’s this I hear about you loving me?” Michael asked after a few minutes of silence.

I sighed softly. “I feel like you’re just vindictive enough that if I say it, you won’t speak to me for 2 days.”

“Normally, yeah. Not so much when it comes to you.”

“I love you, Michael,” I said softly, needing no other confirmation that I was safe with him.

“I love you, too.” He disentangled himself from me and dropped his arms from around his knees, one hand on the small of my back, one hand on my jaw and he kissed me softly, groaning and leaning further into me, nails blunt on my jaw, before he pulled back.

My mouth tingled and my back and jaw were on fire where his hand still pressed against me. “You taste like vodka. How drunk are you?”

“Not. Promise.” He started reciting the alphabet, but I stopped him. “ _You’re_ not drunk, are you? Your face usually goes all red when you’re drunk.”

“I had half a beer and have been sitting out here for 3 hours.”

“Just making sure all that wasn’t just the alcohol talking.”

“And kissing,” I murmured.

He chuckled. “Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t really mean it, it was a little funny. Definitely cute.”

I grinned to myself. “I’m definitely cute?”

“Maybe you are drunk,” he rolled his eyes, letting his hands drop away from me.

“You think I’m cute,” I hummed and lay out on the ground again.

“I was saying the joke was cute.”

“That’s true. Still stands though.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, flopping back next to me, his hands covering his face

“Already want to kill me?”

“Something like that,” he mumbled through his hands.

“What’s that mean?”

“I want to want to kill you, but I kinda like that you’re annoying. Always have.”

I grinned at him. “You _do_ think I’m cute.”

“I hate myself.”

“But not me,” I grinned, poking at his stomach.

“Keep it up. Push your luck,” he grumbled.

“I’ve been pushing my luck for 6 years. You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m so not. You’re right.” He threw an arm over his face. “Kill me.”

“God’s not listening. He put us together and moved on. He’s busy.”

“Did you just call us a match made in heaven?” Michael asked incredulously.

“Might have.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I really really hope you liked this. If you did please leave me a comment because I need them to survive. Comments and water. Also click through to my other stuff, especially if you're really into angst because that seems to be the vast majority of my stuff.  
> And otherwise just...remember that we're all fucked up, even if you think you've got a monopoly on it. So keep on chugging along and you'll make it up the hill.


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